The 36th Month
by crackedradio
Summary: There is little you can do in a prison to distract yourself. Hama has found her own method to escape the boredom.  Hama-centric ficlet, no pairings


**Warnings:** Spoilers for "The Puppetmaster", slightly gory descriptions, general creepiness

**Author's note: **I originally wrote and published this story in German and now got around to translate it into English. It's a bit different from the German version, but I like it all the same.

**The 36th Month**

There is little one can do in a narrow, little cell und under the constant, observant watch of the guards to occupy oneself with. But if there is one thing needed in a situation such as this, then it's to distract yourself in some way in order to not always think about your lost home, your dead family and a shameful defeat.

Distraction means not to be forced to listen to the mindless, mocking babbling of the guards or to watch the corpses of one's former comrades rot.

Distraction keeps one sane, keeps the mind in shape.

The easiest method to distract oneself is to keep count of the days that pass, the footsteps that echo in the hall or the stains on the floor, of which there plentiful in a prison of the Fire Nation. Most of them are bloodstains.

Counting may not be the most optimal method of occupation, but it the only thing a prisoner of war of the Fire Nation can do without catching the _ever so_ watchful guards' attention and having to face punishment for one's… _insolence._

Hama, too, has formed a habit of counting the most mundane things. Like the passing days, starting with the day the first prisoner of war of her tribe died in his cell. Thirty-six months have passed since then.

And with each passing day more and more of Hama's brothers and sisters, one after one, either of illness, starvation or despair. Well, some have also died after angering one of the guards just a little bit too much. Their corpses are the other _mundane_ thing that Hama has started to count.

It fills her with a wide spectrum of emotions: Grief towards the lost members of her tribe, as well as seething rage and hatred against the Fire Nation. The latter two grow stronger and more vicious with every day, every bit of suffering inflicted by the guards and the steady accumulation of the heap of corpses.

Her anger and hate are all she has left. Whatever family she might have had was slowly dying, slipping away from her into a realm she cannot reach. The sight of her dead comrades serves as a warning to her.

"_Don't end up like your brethren,_" is what Hama tells herself in the damp darkness of her cage over and over again like a mantra, "_Don't__ allow the Fire Nation break you. Soon you will escape this place, just be patient. You will be able to repay their _kindness _and you will grant the Fire Nation as little mercy as the Fire Nation did to your brothers and sisters. They will reap what they have sown. "_

To be patient when one's days in a narrow cell can feel like a small eternity is easier said than. Counting as a means of distraction alone does not make this state of things bearable, but in the rare hours Hama is capable of getting some sleep, she also has her dreams.

They aren't nice dreams, but ones in which she uses her abilities to break bones, to tear her enemies apart limb by limb until they can't even beg for the mercy they were never going to get from her.

Dreams in which the Fire Nation is swallowed by the water.

Dreams in which there is justice.

Dream from which Hama draws her strength, hoping to make them a reality someday. She is certain that this day will come and that it won't be too long until it comes.

Until then she will survive and continue to count the days and the dead bodies of her sisters and brothers, will cultivate her hatred and will perfect the ability that will make her dreams come true.

And when she realizes the full extent of this ability, she will begin to count another thing, though it will be a number that grows smaller with each passing day, not bigger. And it will fill her with a feeling of pleasant anticipation, instead of dread.

When her one special skill reaches perfection, when her imprisonment is beginning to come to its end, Hama will start to count the days until the next full moon.

And it will make her happier than she has been in a very, very long time.


End file.
